Ghostbusters Doom Patrol: Till the Clouds Roll By
by CJ Bacon
Summary: The Doom Patrol, as usual, go from the frying pan right smack into the fire in a myster. Part 2: Now Up!
1. Black Dog

Ghostbusters Doom Patrol: Till the Clouds Roll By   
  
"H.U.D. is now up and running", Brian said into his wireless headset. Studying his neutrona wand held in his hands, he positioned it in front of a large evergreen in the middle of Philadelphia's forest. Before firing, he said:   
  
"Are you sure this is where the ranger reported the disturbance?" About two miles from where Brian stood, Rob was at the edge of the woods leaning against an old, beat-up stretch hearse.   
  
"Yeah", he replied. "He said something about one of these trees being possessed; messing with most of the hikers out here."   
  
"Of course", Brian said. "I think I might have found it." Standing in front of the evergreen, Brian fired a positively charged ion trail at the tree. He waited for a moment for a reaction of any kind, especially if it caught on fire. Suddenly, the ground underneath the tree began to lurch and quake at Brian's feet.   
  
"Rob, I think I found it." The evergreen's roots began to uproot themselves as the tree's branches took on a life of their own, and began taking swipes at Brian. "Yep, this is the tree." Tucking and rolling down a hill, Brian landed on his back and found himself staring at the tree upside down. Aiming his neutrona wand again, he fired almost on instinct.   
  
"Hey, man...you all right? Need any help?" Rob asked concerned, beginning to unsheathe his wand.   
  
"Not yet", was the reply. Getting to his feet, Brian stopped the streams and watched as the tree swayed back and forth before it stiffened. His eyes widening, Brian shouted "TIMBER!!!!" and immediately jumped out of the way. Over on his end, Rob heard the crash and was already sprinting towards Brian's location.   
  
As the debris began to settle, Brian stood up to see what the real source of the disturbance was: staring back at him was a red-colored demon with yellow eyes. There was hate in its eyes.   
  
"Filthy mortal, must you ruin my fun?" it shouted. Its eyes glowing an eerie yellow, flames shot from its hands and at Brian.   
  
"Whoa! Fire in the hole!" Brian said sidestepping the attack. Concentrating, his own eyes began to take on a bluish coloring as muttered an incantation to himself, "Zararthos dol signa wosi tectrop em!"   
  
His whole body was soon surrounded by a blue shield as the demon summoned another flame attack. Surprised, it said:   
  
"Another member of the Order of Ra? Impossible!"   
  
"My whole career's been nothing short of impossible", Brian said, "but I'm learning to live with it." Repeating his spell beams of hue shot from the shield and at the demon, who circled around over Brian's head. Timing it just right as the demon made a dive towards him, Brian switched his pack to its sonic-boom mechanism. Even if it does not blow it to pieces, Brian smirked, he knew it was about to get one heck of a headache!   
  
The demon tried to protect its ears against the attack, coming down lower and lower until it was about three feet about Brian's head. Quickly, Brian switched back to his proton stream and ensnared the demon in his beam.   
  
"Can I be of assistance?" Rob asked smirking as he walked up towards Brian. He was tossing a sphere shaped object up and down in his hand.   
  
"Yeah, you can throw the damn trap already!" Brian said. Grinning, Rob tossed the sphere underneath the demon. Immediately, four metal legs shot from the sides of the sphere and firmly placed themselves in the ground. There was a tiny latch with the familiar NO-GHOST logo on the top that opened, encircling the demon in its light. Turning their heads away from the beams, Rob and Brian heard the ghost screech in protest. Then there was the fissuring of the trap as it closed and they saw the familiar static surround it.   
  
"Well, I'd say that the new equipment tests positive", Rob said patting his neutrona wand as he went over to pick up the small sphere.   
  
"Interesting that you based this new design on a Poke-ball", said Brian stifling a laugh as Rob attached the sphere to his belt.   
  
Confused, Rob furrowed hid eyebrows, "Poke-what?"  
  
. . .   
  
"Yo, CJ! We got another delivery here!" Rob shouted as he and Brian walked through the doors of the incomplete headquarters of the newly formed Ghostbusters Doom Patrol. It was a slightly tall, ascending structure located underneath the Benjamin Franklin Bridge, a road turning off the bridge led to it. Outside, there were numerous crews from Con-Edison drilling and fixing the pipes that lined it.   
  
"Dude, I don't think he's here", Brian said pointing to CJ's empty desk. There was a half-eaten hamburger on a plate from Wendy's still sitting in front of the chair; next to it were various invoices, bills, and comic books of varying titles.   
  
"Well, if he's not gonna come back", Rob said reaching for the hamburger, "then it'd be a shame for this burger to go to waste."   
  
"You touch that burger and you'll die."   
  
Startled, Rob and Brian backed away from the desk as CJ climbed from underneath it, shaking the dust from his hair.   
  
"One question", Brian said. "Why? Why are you hiding underneath your desk?"   
  
"Because of the task you guys gave me", CJ said nearly groaning as he slumped into his chair. It heaved once, but held its ground.   
  
"While Andrew and Salina are off directing the construction crews outside, I've been saddled with the task of auditioning for our 'brand-new secretarial position'."   
  
"What's so bad about that?" Brian asked as his eyes widened.   
  
"Are you joking?" CJ exclaimed. "Some of the nutcases that have come through here are scary! Here, take a look at this one chick." He handed Brian a vanilla folder with a picture of a woman, about twenty-four, inside with her credentials.   
  
Flipping through it, Brian said, "What? I don't see anything so bad about...Sheira Saunders." Rob veered his head over the folder to see for himself, rolled his eyes at CJ, and had to laugh.   
  
"What can be so wrong about someone who studied for four years at Harvard, got a B.A. degree in Communications, and came with such high recommendations?"   
  
"You didn't meet her. That's the problem." CJ sighed. "She walked in and the first thing she asked was 'OOOHHHHH! GHOSTBUSTERS!!!! I LOVE THOSE GUYS!!!! You get to mess around with those lighty-things and zap ghosts and stuff like that! And all of them are all so huggable and cute!'"   
  
Upon hearing that, Brian and Rob held back briefly with stifled laughter, then stood right and then gained their composure again.  
  
"So I tell her, 'There's a lot more to Ghostbusters than just being cute. There's a lot of hard work and science that goes into it.' But she cuts me off and says: 'Oh that, well I do have my degrees and all so I could hack it pretty well.' Then I say that the position that's open is only as secretary and she looks at me like I've called her a derogatory name or something and she starts to cry and say: 'BUT I WANTED TO BE A GHOSTBUSTER!' I tell her I'm sorry, but she storms out."   
  
"Any others?" Brian asked wiping away a tear from his eyes, while thumbing through the folder.   
  
"Yeah", CJ said pushing aside his comic books. "One here I want to burn because this person would only work if it meant she didn't have to touch our quarries. Another said she'd only work once a month because of her schedule. And this third one, I won't even mention, only that she completely offended the New York Yankees and said that Aquaman was the suckiest member of the original Justice League."   
  
"Well, there wasn't much the man could do but swim and talk to fish!" Rob said deadpan.   
  
"Don't start with me man, I've had a rough day", CJ said reaching for his hamburger and taking a big chomp out of it. "There was one more woman who came in. She seemed nice and had good credentials, but when she spoke, she damn near scared the crap out of me."  
  
"What did she say?" Brian asked.  
  
"Its not what she said; its how she sounded." CJ groaned. "Her voice was deep like Barry White. You get my drift?"  
  
"Dayum." Rob backed away, jaded. Taking a fresh toothpick out of his pocket, he put one in his mouth.  
  
"I tell you, if I get one more douche bag today I'm going to go completely mad!" CJ said.  
  
"Don't go yet man", Brian said patting CJ on his shoulder. "We can't afford another expert in ectoplasm." At that moment, there came a knock on the door of the HQ. CJ, Rob, and Brian all turned their heads at the same time, to see a small young woman walk inside. She had light brown hair, and green eyes that reminded them of Dr. Venkman.   
  
"Hi", she said pleasantly holding a similar vanilla folder that CJ had seen all day. "Um, I called earlier about the auditions for the secretary job that was advertised, but nobody answered the phone."   
  
"That's my fault", CJ said. "Damn Verizon hasn't shut our phones on yet."   
  
"It's cool, but is the position still open or am I too late?" CJ looked at his watch and shrugged his shoulders. He was about to answer when Rob said:   
  
"Ah, yes it is miss. Do you have your credentials in order?"   
  
"Certainly", she said handing it over to Rob, who opened it and immediately began to peruse through it.   
  
"Interesting, ...Ms. Cummins, or should I call you Erin?"   
  
"Erin's fine with me."   
  
"Okay. It says here you have had considerable study into film, is this correct?"   
  
"Yes it is. I studied for a number of years into the art of cinematography and learned most of the tricks that go into it. I wanted to be a director."   
  
"What happened with that?" CJ asked.   
  
"I hate the fact that Hollywood's so fake right now."   
  
"Sounds fair", Rob said. "And there is a small part here about Criminology...?"   
  
"That was at a point when I wasn't sure that the film career was gelling right so I took up the study of the criminal mind."   
  
"Nice", Brian said nodding.   
  
"Meh, I don't know," CJ said. "I mean, you have a much better personality than some of the dregs I've had to talk to today, but I'm not sure if a film student is qualified for the secretarial position that we're offering."   
  
"Which is?"   
  
CJ was about to answer when Salina came bursting in. "Glad you're here guys", she said. "Those three guys from Con-ED just won't listen!"   
  
"What's the matter?" Rob asked.   
  
"I'm trying to tell them that we're doing business inside and to keep the noise down, but they just won't listen to reason. Andrew's out there ready to punch the lights out of one of them."   
  
"Oh boy", CJ sighed rubbing his eyes. "Well, let's see what all's happening."   
  
There did indeed appear to be a disturbance outside, near where Doom Patrol's headquarters was. Three Con-Edison workers held drills in their hands, upturned earth strewn about them. The leader, a tall burly man with a stubbly beard and double chin, was face-to-face with Andrew. Already a crowd of people had gathered.   
  
"HOW THE HELL CAN YOU TELL ME HOW AND WHERE TO DO MY JOB?"   
  
"Like this: Move the goddamn equipment somewhere or else!"   
  
"Or else what, asshole?" The outspoken Con-ED man puffed out his chest and pushed Andrew backward.   
  
"Look man, I don't want any trouble. Just move the stuff so we can concentrate on our work. And plus, you don't want to pick a fight with me, tubby."   
  
"Oooh, I'm shakin' in my boots here guys. Listen, you called us ova' here to fix the pothole problem and then you hassle us about the noise level?"   
  
"Okay, guys," CJ said breaking in between the two before they began to brawl. "Mr. Seward, we're in the middle of conducting some sensitive business regarding the paranormal, and it would be ill regarded if these experiments were disturbed by your drilling, as well as our interviewing processes. Would you want that on your head if something exploded?"   
  
"Of course not."   
  
"Then please, move to another area."   
  
Seward thought for a moment on this, and then shook his head. "No. I have a job to do. Why don't you go back to your Calculus and stuff Urkel?"   
  
A fuse seemed to go off inside CJ as he shouted, "Why you mother------!" and attempted to jump Seward, but was stopped by Andrew who grabbed his shirt collar.   
  
"He ain't worth it man, believe me."   
  
"Yeah, but he's not going to get away with that insult!"   
  
"Can I help in some way?" CJ and Andrew turned around to look at Erin Cummins, the woman who had auditioned to be secretary.   
  
"Who are you?" Andrew asked. But he didn't get any reply as Erin strolled past him and walked up to Seward, who was laughing it up with his fellow Con-ED workers.   
  
"Listen guys, where're you supposed to be drilling at?"   
  
"Podunk Avenue", Seward replied.   
  
"I see, well, this isn't Podunk, its Passyunk Street!" Seward's face dropped as he looked towards one of his pals.   
  
"Is that true?" One of his associates looked at the work shift list and he laughed nervously.   
  
"Well, boss, anyone can make a mistake..."   
  
"Just shut up." Seward turned back towards Erin and Doom Patrol. "Uh, I don't know how to say this, but sorry for wasting your time and you won't be billed by the city for the work that was done."   
  
"And I won't call your boss about your blunder, so we both win."   
  
Saying nothing else, Seward and the rest of his Con-ED cronies piled the equipment back into their truck and began to pull out of the driveway of the HQ.   
  
"Wow", CJ said as the Con-ED truck left dust. "I've never seen that happen before."   
  
"Yeah", Andrew said. "But uh who is this again?"   
  
"Erin Cummins", Erin said extending her hand towards Andrew, who shook it.   
  
"Our new secretary", Rob added.   
  
. . . .   
  
"...So this is our headquarters as you can see", Salina said showing Erin around. "It's not much to start off with, but it'll work until we can get some more jobs."   
  
"One question", Erin asked. "I have done research on the Ghostbusters, and they all seem to have a containment unit of some sort for the ghosts they trap and it doesn't seem you guys have one yet."   
  
"We do, actually", Salina said. "CJ and Rob—the two fellows you met earlier—are going over some schematics concerning the development of our ECU. I've seen what they've got in mind, and believe me it's impressive."   
  
"What do you use now?"   
  
"A smaller design, something more akin to the shape of a refrigerator. It's difficult to explain, only that there is enough more room inside because of a pocket universe Brian found."   
  
"That just went over my head" Erin said laughing. She was cut short by the sound of a whistle.   
  
"Mail's here", Brian said walking inside with a cadre of envelopes.   
  
"Anything good?" Salina asked.   
  
"Bill from Verizon, bill from Adelphia Plumbing & Heating Co, bill from that guy that was hit by a flying coconut at the supermarket bust. Oh, look what we have here..." He held one letter high in the air, examining it. "Who's that one from?"   
  
"You wouldn't believe it, but it's from NBC."   
  
"The National Broadcasting Company that puts on Fear Factor and Jeopardy, that NBC?"   
  
"Yeah", Brian replied tearing open the letter. Scanning through it, he grinned. "Hey Erin, call CJ and Rob up here. They gotta hear this. Where's Andrew?"   
  
"Up in his room doing god knows what", Salina said looking towards the stairs.   
  
"He's so mysterious" Brian said scratching his head. "Oh well, then just call Rob and Ced."   
  
"Okay." Erin went over to her new desk, the one closest to the door and picked up the telephone receiver, beginning to dial a number. Inside the basement, CJ and Rob were in the middle of discussing the size of the ECU when the phone rang.   
  
"They'll be up in a minute", Erin said hanging up the phone.   
  
"What's all this about", CJ asked as he and Rob came up from the basement.   
  
"We've got a letter from NBC", Brian said. "It says that the network would like us to appear as special guests on Late Night with Conan O'Brien tomorrow night."   
  
"You serious?" Rob asked.   
  
"Yeah, and they're willing to pay us $25,000 apiece for a one night shot that we'll have to confirm with today."   
  
"Conan's always liked Ghostbusters", Salina said. "I wouldn't think we shouldn't take the offer."   
  
"Yeah, I agree, but come on...25 G's a piece? That's a little much. But, its NBC, so I guess they can afford it", Rob nodded. "Besides, we could use the extra money to restore headquarters and whatever money is left over, we'll put into the ECU."  
  
"I'll call them now", Erin said, then remembered that they couldn't call out.   
  
"Damn Verizon", CJ muttered flipping open his cellular phone and handing it to Erin.   
  
. . .   
  
"You the Duke Patrol?" An elderly gruff security guard met the ghostbusting team at the backdoor of NBC studios, at the area where the Conan O'Brien show was about to start airing in one hour.   
  
Andrew raised an eyebrow. "That's Ghostbusters Doom Patrol. Do I look like Robotman to you sir?"   
  
The guard shook his head. "I don't read comics kid", he said and opened the door wider, letting the team inside. "That there equipment ain't dangerous is it? If it is, I have to confiscate it." He was looking at Brian's proton pack.   
  
"Turned down it isn't", Brian replied coolly and held his neutrona wand in his hands. "Besides, the NBC exec said that Conan wanted us to demonstrate the power of our...."   
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, their powerful lightsabers. Just go inside. Ask for Matt Sweeny."   
  
The inside of the studio was lined with Emmy's, awards, and other honors that the studio has been bestowed upon in the past fifty years. Their were even portraits of those who have had the pleasure of working for NBC, many of which featured Johnny Carson schmoozing it up with a foreign guest or up and coming comic.   
  
"So who's this Matt Sweeny guy?" Salina asked.   
  
"I think he might be the stage manager", CJ replied, shifting his head around to see where the fellow might be. He stopped in his tracks as they passed by a dressing room.   
  
"Why'd you stop?" Rob asked, bumping into him.   
  
"It's...it's...her!"   
  
"Her who?"   
  
"Sheena Lyndon!" CJ whispered, and nodded his head towards a young woman, slightly older than he was with stunning raven black hair. From the glance at the mirror, her face was nicely shaped, almost Asian in her looks.   
  
"Who's Sheena Lyndon?" Salina asked, trying to get a good look at the woman. CJ stared down sheepishly as he replied:   
  
"She's a pop star."   
  
Brian tried stifling a laugh. He found it funny that a guy who listened to Blink-182 and AC/DC could find room in his cd collection for a pop star.   
  
"But she's not like Britney and Christina", CJ said quickly. "Her stuff's geared more towards rock and pop. You guys should've heard that live version she did of 'Creep' by Radiohead. It was awesome! I hope she's gonna be on the show with us tonight!"   
  
"I'll bet", Andrew said passively dragging CJ away from the door by his collar. "But remember why we're here?"   
  
"Yeah, you're right", CJ said hiking up his proton pack and continued the search for Sweeny, but not before getting one last look at Sheena Lyndon.   
  
Salina rolled her eyes, and turned around looking at Rob.  
  
The bald-headed Doom Patrolman put up his hands in defense. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm more of a Janet Jackson type of brotha'."  
  
. . .   
  
With a clipboard in his hand, the stage manager, Matt Sweeny, stood opposite the drum set used by Max Weinberg and the Max Weinberg 7. It was obvious he was in the process of making sure things were going to go smoothly tonight. In the stands, there weren't very many people, thought it was becoming obvious that it was beginning to fill up.   
  
"Excuse me", Salina said. "But are you Matt Sweeny?" Sweeny looked up at her.   
  
"Yeah that's me. You guys must be the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol Conan was so bent on getting tonight. I read how you guys solved that problem out in Nevada. Pretty cool I must say."   
  
"Thanks", Rob replied. "When do we go on?"   
  
"You go on after Sheena Lyndon finishes her set..."   
  
"Oh, here we go", Andrew lowered his head and thought to himself when CJ was given that news.  
  
"You mean Sheena Lyndon is actually going to appear on this show? Here? Tonight?" CJ asked surprised, his eyes widening.   
  
"Yeah, didn't you read the marquee on the front? In any case, she'll be doing two songs from her new album and get interviewed by Conan. You guys are on next. By the way, you didn't bring a ghost here tonight?"   
  
Brian held up the ghost-sphere that he had used earlier in the week in the palm of his hand. "It's only a Class I Specter. Nothing serious or dangerous about it."   
  
"I hope so", Sweeny said. "When Conan asked for you guys to give a live demonstration of your equipment, I had hoped that he was only kidding. Ah well, please try not to damage anything; if you break it, you but it."  
  
"Hey, we're Ghostbusters." Salina reassured Sweeney in a way to make him believe that they were trained professionals.  
  
"Yeah, exactly" Sweeny replies with a bit of sarcasm. "PLACES PEOPLE! WE GOT A SHOW TO DO! Ghostbusters, you sit there until Lyndon finishes up." He pointed to a spot behind the stage where a table and chairs had already been set up for them. Above them was a screen, where they would be watching the show.   
  
"Isn't this a jip", Andrew said. "No snacks or anything to drink and we got thirty minutes to bum around until we go on."   
  
"Could be worse", Rob said. "We could have ended up on Carson Daily."   
  
. . .   
  
"From NBC Studios in New York, it's Late Night with Conan O' Bri-en!!!!"   
  
The applause from the audience resounded all around the studio, as Max Weinberg and his band played the usual hot jazz number that always opened the show.   
  
"...Tonight, fresh off of her tour of Europe, Sheena Lyndon! And, direct from the town of Philadelphia, the hottest thing in paranormal research and defense, the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol!!!!   
  
"Who told him to say 'hottest thing in paranormal research and defense'?" Brian asked. "That makes us sound like we're Hellboy and the B.P.R.D."   
  
Conan walked onto the stage, almost guided by Weinberg's downbeat. Wearing a charcoal gray suit with a red tie, he almost went back to the days of Carson and Paar. On his jacket lapel, he was sporting a Ghostbusters NO- GHOST logo.   
  
"Hi, welcome to the show everybody. As you know, I'm about as giddy as a schoolgirl meeting Kobe Bryant on prom night, and why wouldn't I? We've got not one, but six excellent guests here tonight. You know our first guest is, of course, the talented and should I mention lovely Miss Sheena Lyndon!" ((audience applauds again near deafening))   
  
Feeling cocky, Conan flicks his comb-over red hair, moistens his index and pinky fingers, coolly slicking back his eyebrows. "Oh yes, that's right. She is straight from her immensely sold out tour in Europe where I hear that she had to have American water imported in every step of the way. I mean can you blame her? She's a celebrity; she can do what she wants. Heck, I don't think my assistant Wilbur even likes me. ((Whispers to the audience))...I think he's after me lucky charms."  
  
The studio camera takes a shot at Wilbur among the stage crew; he smiles innocently at Conan, giving him the thumbs up sign. "Enjoying your coffee Mr. O'Brian?"  
  
"Yeah, thanks Wilbur." Conan waved at Wilbur and smiled just before he took a sip of the coffee that Wilbur made for him...and then thought for a second and realized drinking it wasn't a good idea. "Um, I'll have some of this later, Wilbur. But, thanks anyway, buddy."  
  
Wilbur continues smiling and giving Conan the thumbs up sign. At that moment, the audience could hear a pre-recorded voice-over of Wilbur's thoughts over the P.A. system.  
  
"Damn you Conan O'Brian. Damn you to hell!"  
  
((The audience expresses laughter))  
  
"Anyway, as she's here tonight to grace our stage with two selections from her new album The Big Noise, and it's not what some of you guys are thinking. And, folks, this is probably the greatest moment of my life, but we have the number one name in paranormal elimination. Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm talking about the Ghostbusters!" ((more applause from the audience)) "While not the Ghostbusters, it's still a kick-ass team. You might've heard of them in the news, they're the guys and girl who saved that town in Nevada from turning into the 10th Level of Hell no more than a month ago. Ah, I'm spoiling the show; let's get it started! Max, hit it!" ((The Max Weinberg 7 played a piece that sounded vaguely similar to a Beach Boys song.))   
  
The show takes a commercial break. [Fade out]  
  
[Fade in] Back from commercial break.  
  
Appearing at his desk, Conan motioned for the audience to settle (after someone shouted "I LOVE YOU CONAN!!!" from his seat). "Okay, settle down guys. As you all know we got one helluva show tonight I'm tellin' you. My first guest, you know my first guest as the contender for Queen of the Teenyboppers, who's self-titled debut album knocked even Britney Spears off the top of the charts. This weekend, she'll be appearing at the Hippodrome theater in downtown New York, and two weeks from now will be hosting Saturday Night Live with special guest Megan Mullaly from the hit 'Will and Grace', please welcome Sheena Lyndon!"   
  
CJ turned his attention away from the screen to look towards the small, almost dainty figure descend past the Doom Patrol and towards the stage. "Excuse me", Sheena Lyndon said softly as she brushed past him, her hair flapping in the invisible wind. He was brought back to earth only by Salina snapping her fingers together.   
  
Sheena Lyndon was dressed very casually for a network show, wearing a Supergirl t-shirt with dark blue jeans and boots. Conan got up from his desk and hugged her once as she took the closest seat next his desk.   
  
"Wow, I gotta say it's quite an honor to have you on the show here tonight Miss Lyndon."   
  
"Thank you Conan, I know it's nice to be here and all. I've never missed an episode of your show."   
  
"Well thanks", Conan said. "Everything seems to be going all well for you. I mean, from the looks of things, you just released a brand new album and people are already beginning to talk about Grammy's; you are up for that lead female role in Quentin Tarentino's American adaptation of the Japanese comic book Perfect Blue; and you just came off of an amazing tour in Europe, as if I haven't said that enough."   
  
"You're right, the tour was amazing. The townspeople we visited in Dover and Paris and even Glasgow were really nice and actually know the lines to my songs better than I do! ((audience laughter))"   
  
"Right, but what about that Tarentino project that's been garnering so much attention? I mean, after Kill Bill volumes 1 and 2 wrapped I thought he was going to focus on that World War 2 script we've heard about."   
  
"Well, Quentin read the comic version of the story and loved its mystery content of a popstar who decides to shed her squeaky clean image and become a movie star. Plus, the anime wasn't all that bad either. So Quentin decided to do a live-action version of the film, and has strongly asked me to play the role of Ai Asaka."   
  
"Cool, I'm sure I'll be in line for tickets when it comes out."   
  
"We're shooting for a 2005 release date, maybe in the summer."   
  
"Even better, you'll have Batman, Star Wars, The Fantastic Four, and Indiana Jones to play around with."   
  
"Yeah, but I think people will come to see it anyway, especially those that have actually seen the original anime of the film."   
  
"Cool, when we get back, Miss Lyndon will regale us two songs from her new album, and we'll meet the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol, all that's next so stay tuned!" ((Cactus Chef plays "Ghostbusters" theme by Ray Parker Jr. at this point))   
  
"Okay folks, one of the moments you've been waiting for. Ms. Sheena Lyndon will perform the smash hit single 'Somewhere and Nowhere' from her new album. Hit it!"   
  
The teleprompter in front of the stage immediately began to light up and display the words to Sheena's single, helped along by the Max Weinberg 7 who provided the music. Andrew shook his head as he noticed CJ quietly singing along with Sheena, seemingly in a trance by the performance.   
  
All was going pleasantly enough, until it was Sweeny, from the control room, who noticed that cameras five, six, and seven had all gone out. "What the hell?" he asked. "Hey, Neil, you asleep or what out there?"   
  
"Nah boss, I'm getting all of it."   
  
"Then why the hell is it that your cameras not online?"   
  
"Wha--?"   
  
Conan's attention was turned towards the teleprompter, not the situation with the cameras. He had begun to notice that it was flickering every now and then, not unusual for equipment this old, but weird that it was going off every few seconds. Sheena didn't seem to be bothered by it; she was singing the song from memory anyway. Conan pointed to the prompter, signaling a mechanic to fix it. Suddenly, the teleprompter exploded, flinging the mechanic backwards before he managed to get to it.   
  
"Hey look!" Brian pointed as a mist began to creep out of the teleprompter. It wasn't smoke, which was evident when Salina's PKE meter began to go off. Whipping it out, she said plainly:   
  
"Looks like we won't need to use that small ghost after all." She immediately whipped out her neutrona wand and charging it. By now, the mist had begun to take shape and form: it looked like the ghost of a young woman, about early to middle twenties with dark brown hair that reached down to her shoulders. She was wearing a red parka with a white skirt. CJ's eyes widened as he realized that the ghost was making her way towards Sheena Lyndon, who was now frozen in fear on the spot. The hatred in the ghost's eyes made the lighting fixtures above her crackle and fizz.   
  
"Remember me Sheena? Your best friend, the one you promised never to forget, through thick and thin?"   
  
Sheena began to back away from the ghost. Conan walked up to it and said:   
  
"Listen Ms. Ghost ma'am, if you're with the Ghostbusters great, but you kind of made my mechanic unconscious and..."   
  
But the ghost didn't listen, instead turning its head towards him. With a single stare, she flung Conan through his own desk, and then turned her attention back to Sheena.   
  
At this point, the audience has become terrified. No one in the stage area of the studio was able to leave through the exits because the doors had been mysteriously locked.  
  
"No one can save you now, Sheena. Don't try to run; it will do you no good. Vengeance will be mine for what you did."   
  
"Hey poozer!"   
  
The ghost looked and saw CJ, Rob, Andrew, Brian, and Salina standing in front of her. By now, the studio audience had tried to make a break for the doors, but to no avail they could not break free. Everyone was trapped.   
  
"Do you have to start every battle with 'poozer'?" Rob asked CJ.   
  
"Helps eases my fears", he replied. "Now, whoever you are, you've just disrupted a very excellent show, caused massive panic, and you've knocked poor Conan on his ass!"  
  
Conan manages to weakly move after being thrown threw his desk. He peeks over his chair and shouts.  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
"You, my dearly deceased woman are an uninvited guest. So we're giving you two options", Andrew said, "Option A: You go away and leave everyone alone." Brian, Salina, and Rob charged up their neutrona wands while, he held up the ghost trap in his hand. "Or, you can take Option B, which is, if you don't take Option A, things will get pretty rowdy around here and ugly for you."   
  
"I'll take Option C, which is you can't save Sheena from me. So, screw you!" The ghost of the young woman advanced upon the Doom Patrol with immense speed.   
  
"Rob, I think I like her already. Think I have a shot." Andrew asks.  
  
"I'd say you have a ghost of a chance, playa'."  
  
"Miss Lyndon, run over toward the safety of the crowd!" CJ yelled. "You'll be safer there!" She nodded as she made way for one of the sealed exits of the studio.   
  
"Okay boys...and Salina", Brian said. "FIRE!" Five proton streams sailed towards the female ghost, but she dodged them with ease.   
  
"Is it me", CJ said, his stream knocking loose the catwalk as it fell towards the stage, "or is she laughing at us?"   
  
"It's just you", Rob said, trying to knock the ghost off course. He managed to wing her shoulder, which caused her to fly through the wall and into the control room.   
  
Kicking down the door, Rob yelled:   
  
"Everybody out! We got official Ghostbusters business to conduct here!"   
  
Before exiting with the control room crew, Sweeny said, "I hope you're other ghost was a lot tamer than this one."   
  
Rob replies, "Sir, she's not one of ours."  
  
"Sal, you got a reading?" Andrew asked.   
  
"It's faint, but think it's coming from inside that closet", she replied, pointing to the broom closet. The five Ghostbusters crept towards it quietly as Brian gripped the handle.   
  
"Okay guys, when I open this door, on the count of three, fire at will. 1....2....3!!!!" The words were barely out of his mouth when the door exploded in an array of white foam that engulfed the entire Doom Patrol. Using his canny instincts, Andrew managed to dodge most of the foam, making his way towards the closet, only to find an empty fire extinguisher and slime residue sliding down the wall.   
  
Coughing, Rob asked, "Is everyone all right?"   
  
"My pride's kind of hurt", Brian said looking at the extinguisher. Behind him, he could hear the patter of many feet rushing up the stairs and towards the control room. Blocking the doorway was a wide array of reporters and photographers.   
  
"Go get 'em, will you Andrew", Rob said pointing towards the lot.   
  
. . .   
  
"...And that was the scene yesterday at NBC Studios in New York as an unidentified specter attacked the set of the popular talk show, Late Night with Conan O'Brien, putting both Conan and mechanic Douglas Shiba in the hospital with minor injuries. Not satisfied with Conan O'Brien, the specter turned its attention towards visiting pop sensation Sheena Lyndon, as this footage shows, courtesy of NBC Studios."   
  
"Interesting how they're saving us for last", CJ said. It had been no more than twenty-four hours since the attack, and the Doom Patrol was back in Philadelphia. Watching the television with him were Erin, Andrew, and Brian, as Rob and Salina were downstairs doing some maintenance work on the still unfinished ECU.   
  
"I don't know", Erin said. "I've watched this show before. They usually twist things around so much that it leaves the subject matter backwards, especially if it's coming from the mouth of Jane Robards."   
  
"Aw come on, you see how the press loves us."   
  
"Perhaps unfortunate for the audience, the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol were on duty that night and happened to be on the scene at the time of the attack. As you are seeing, they immediately went to work without checking first that the audience was out of danger."   
  
"Is she shitting me?" Andrew cried rising to the floor. "The audience was locked in with the rest of us when we started. Hell, they couldn't clear out when that prompter blew up!"   
  
"Disregard for their surroundings is also evident in this next clip, showing the destruction of a catwalk that very nearly destroys Conan O'Brien's stage." CJ grinned sheepishly as he slunk back in his chair.   
  
"For promoting themselves as professionals, the Doom Patrol certainly did not act very professional, as you see. Our photographer, before being attacked by Mr. Andrew Williams of the Doom Patrol, managed to capture these images of a defeated team of so called heroes and shows the lack of respect for journalists that the Doom Patrol has. And, as if this weren't enough, the team also let the ghost escape, the ghost having sprayed the team with a fire extinguisher and possibly exiting through a wall. The total cost of damages done to the stage has not yet been finalized, but is roughly estimated at being $18,000 by our studio experts.   
  
And that is all in the news for today. As always, I'm Jane Robards. Good night!"   
  
"Turn it off...just turn it off", Brian said solemnly.   
  
"Are we just going to let this stand?" Andrew asked. "She made idiots out of us on national TV and all you're going to say is 'turn it off'?"   
  
"What more can we do?" CJ asked. "The ghost got away and they have the right to make a story out of it." Andrew grumbled and began walking away, making his way upstairs. "Where're you going?"   
  
"Our training room, is it finished?" Andrew said without turning around.   
  
"Dunno, might be."   
  
"Then that's where I'll be." After Andrew had left, Brian shook his head. "He does have a point", he said. "I mean it wasn't our fault that that ghost got away." "I got to applaud it though", CJ said. "Not many forms of ectoplasm can think they way it did." "It all seems weird", Erin added, "that that ghost reminded me of somebody." Brian raised his eyebrow. "Oh really?" he said. "Who?" "I can answer that." All three turned around to face a portly gentleman with dark hair that was combed lopsidedly to one side. He was wearing a coat that made him look like one of those film-noir detectives. "The door was left open I see", CJ said. "Sorry for the interruption", the gentleman added, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet. Opening it, a gold badge gleamed in the light. It read: MADISON, PHILADELPHIA POLICE DEPARTMENT 4983. "My name is Madison, a detective for the 7th District of the Philadelphia Police Department." "Pleased to meet you, sir", Brian said cordially, inviting him over to a seat. "You said something about you know the identity of the ghost?" Madison nodded and removed a packet from the inside of his pocket, handing it to Brian. Opening it, an entire dossier of pictures and articles fell out. "Hey!" CJ said pointing to one of the pictures. "That's Sheena Lyndon right there, but she's...younger..." "That was taken about five years ago at the Pittsburgh County Fair", Detective Madison replied. "She was engaged in a concert at that date, probably the first time she played to a large audience." "Who's the other girl next to her sharing the microphone?" Erin asked. Detective Madison interrupted, "That...is your ghost."  
  
TO BE CONTINUED.... 


	2. Shine On You Crazy Diamond

Ghostbusters Doom Patrol: Till the Clouds Roll By, Part 2  
  
Chapter 1: An Explanation of Sorts  
  
With his left arm leaning halfway outside of the driver's side window, Statler rhythmically tapped the door of the Ecto-Millennium. The vehicle had been a laborious project that had taken him the better part of several weeks of focused toiling and sleepless nights to complete. The sirens of the massive stretch hearse were silent and its headlights were slightly dimmed. Painted a pristine black, the car's metallic blue lining gleamed radiantly in the mid-evening twilight. On the hood of the engine was the familiar NO-GHOST emblem of Doom Patrol.  
  
"Tell me again now, why are we heading toward Gloucester Township, New Jersey?" Rob asked as his eyes diverted to a sign above the overpass that read NOW ENTERING GLOUCESTER COUNTY.  
  
Salina sat in the passenger seat, thumbing through the preliminary reports that Detective Madison had given the team the day before. "To try to make some sense of what the hell happened the other night at the television studio", she said simply, nodding to the left, indicating for Rob to take the next exit.  
  
"The reports said that Beatrix DeWitt used to live in this area all her life. We need to start from scratch."  
  
Salina opened a folder containing the reports she just mentioned, fliped through, and came across a black and white photograph, attached by a paperclip, of an elderly woman sitting on a gazebo with a young girl.  
  
Rob shifts his head to take a brief look at the image. "Who's the old lady?"  
  
"Beatrix's only remaining next of kin; her grandmother, Veronica DeWitt. We're short on leads and this is as good a place to start as any. Hopefully, she can shed some light between the connection of the ghost that attacked Sheena on Late Night and why it involves Beatrix "  
  
"Can't imagine why she would disappear at the height of her career. That don't make no sense." Rob added.  
  
Salina shrugged as the Ecto-M lazily turned into town. "Guess that's why Detective Madison and the Philly P.D had so much trouble with this case in the beginning: no body, no witnesses, and no motive."  
  
"Good point", Rob replied as he turned the vehicle down a street. He then reached down to turn up the volume on the radio on the control panel and changed the bandwidth tuner to Q-102, his favorite music station. The radio jockey's voice could be heard from the front and rear speakers of the Ecto- M.  
  
"Gooooooood evening everyone. You're listening to Q-102; Philadelphia #1 hit music station. As always, I'm DJ Quick and this is my partner and playette in crime Ms. Lisa Jones."  
  
Jones: "Hey y'all!"  
  
Quick: "Aight', just a reminder for all of you tuning in now that later on, we'll have a special guest coming to ya' live from the studio. No introduction is needed for this man; he is Philly's hometown hero and the supreme thrilling machine of basketball...Allen Iverson! He is fresh hot on the scene these days. You don't wanna miss this interview folks, so stick around. Right now, Lisa has something to say, so brothas', pay attention lest you miss out on the sultry words of Ms. Jones."  
  
Jones: "Hello, boys, it's Friday and you know what that means. The weekend is here and I'm ready to play. Who wants to come and play with me? (DJ Quick raises his hand eagerly) Hahaha! Easy yourself, Quick. Tonight at 10pm, The Suede Lounge is hosting its annual dance contest to raise money for renovations to the new gym and recreation center at Center City's local YMCA. Quick and I will be there to MC the event and those of you who prove your worth tonight will have the opportunity to meet and share a grind with me on the dance floor. So come on you eligible men...and women. Join us there and support a good cause. Groove now or forever hold your peace."  
  
Quick: "That's right. You heard it from the lips of Ms. Jones first hand. Be there with us, drink up, dance, and loose yourself. Cover charge at the door is $15 for men, $12 dollars for women. Half of all proceeds will go to the YMCA. For directions to The Suede Lounge, log on to their website at www.suedelounge.com. Now that's out the way, Q-102 is gonna take you back...old school style. Since its hot out there in the city, we're gonna grace you with a familiar hit by DJ Jazzy Jeff and Will "The Fresh Prince" Smith."  
  
(Intro to "Summertime" plays)  
  
::Summer, summer, summertime  
  
Time to sit back and unwind::  
  
Rob smiled as he again began to tap the side of the car along with the music over the radio. "I grew up on his music."  
  
Looking up from reading over the files, Salina puts on her blue-tinted shades. "I'm actually more into 80s pop and Duran-Duran."  
  
"That's cool, girl. You know I..." Then it dawned on him. "Wait a second...Duran-Duran, Salina Duran?"  
  
Salina then innocently smiled to herself.  
  
Not too far down the block from where they were driving, the two Ghostbusters noticed children playing water sports outside of their homes on their front lawns. The sun had not quite gone down for the evening, but it was still warm enough for children to run around playing with water balloons and swimming in their pools. The crisp, sweet smell of grilled honey barbecued chicken filled the air of the suburban township. Salina had spent many years away from home on expeditions in the Great White North and much of Eastern Europe. As she looked on seeing the children play and families gather in fellowship, she thought about how much she missed being away from her family and former life in Canada.  
  
"Hey, big man", Rob said hanging out of the driver's window. One of the children, a portly Asian boy, walked up to the car. "Can you help us out real quick, we're looking for someone."  
  
"Who's that?" the boy asked.  
  
"Do you know a Mrs. Veronica DeWitt or if she live around here?"  
  
"Miz DeWitt?" the boy replied in a distinct New Jersey accent. "Yeah, she's just up the road here, and when you get to Tommy's house, just make a left turn and you'll see her house."  
  
"Okay, what color house does Tommy live in?" Rob asked smirking.  
  
"What's it to ya'"?  
  
"Huh?" Rob got a kick out of this. He looks over to Salina. "Ain't that a..."  
  
Salina inches over and looks past his shoulder.  
  
"Ok, kid, I respect that. You drive a hard bargain," Rob said digging inside his pocket. He pulled out a half dollar and tossed it to the boy.  
  
"That's all?" The boy wined  
  
Statler persists, "Tell me what I want to know and I'll give you the rest."  
  
"OK. Tommy's house is tan with a black roof."  
  
"Good boy." The muscular Doom Patrolman tossed him another half-dollar. "You've just learned a valuable lesson, son. Don't ever hustle a hustler." And with that, the Ecto-M drove away.  
  
"What did you mean by the last thing you said to that boy?" Salina asked.  
  
"Salina, kids today are either greedy or lazy. Next time, that little kid will think twice before he decides to screw someone over. Wait till he discovers that the inscription on the other half dollar reads PROPERTY OF ATLANTIC CITY.  
  
"What am I going to do with you, baldy?" A wide grin on her face, Salina said as they drove in the direction the boy had given them. "And you know what? I never noticed it before, but you have an accent."  
  
"I should, I used to live about an hour's drive from where we are now before I got snapped up by the U.S. Special Weapons and Vehicles Division and was shipped all the way out to...."  
  
"Dalton", Salina finished for him, grinning from ear to ear. "We both know how the story comes out anyway."  
  
. . .  
  
Mrs. Veronica DeWitt's home was different from the others in her neighborhood. Unlike some of the more modern homes, hers was a relic from the 1950s: a simple two-story home with a veranda porch that women used to sit on during the hotter evenings in the year. The paint was an old gray that made the house more low key than it actually was, maybe intentionally as Salina thought, considering the near brush with fame that her late granddaughter was exposed to.  
  
"You want to knock first?", Rob asked as he and Salina stood at the steps of the porch staring at the door.  
  
"Sure", Salina said walking towards the door. "I don't think she'll give us any information if we don't play this right."  
  
Salina's knuckles had barely rapped against the door when the sound of a lock unlatching was heard. The door opened barely, just enough for an elderly woman with white hair to poke her head out. Salina and the woman stared face to face for several moments, before Salina said:  
  
"Mrs. DeWitt?" The woman continued to stare at her.  
  
Again Salina asked, "Mrs. Veronica DeWitt?"  
  
"Yes?" the woman responded finally.  
  
"Hello, my name is Salina Duran, and over there is my associate Robert Statler. We're with the Ghostbusters: Doom Patrol division in Pennsylvania." Salina showed Mrs. DeWitt a card, which the woman took and studied.  
  
"I remember seeing you on the Conan O'Brien show a couple of days ago", Mrs. DeWitt said handing Salina's card back to her. "What do you want?"  
  
"We wanted to ask you one or two questions about your granddaughter, Bea, Mrs. DeWitt." Rob had now walked up to the top of the veranda and was standing next to Salina.  
  
"You're Ghostbusters; not the police.", the old woman retorted.  
  
"I assure you, Mrs. DeWitt, that we have full authority to conduct this investigation given to us by the Philadelphia Department of Justice." Salina asserted.  
  
"What do you want to know?" the woman asked, beginning to close the door, but Rob's mighty hand stopped her.  
  
"If you were watching the Conan show", Rob said, "then you would know that a spirit attacked and tried to kill pop sensation Sheena Lyndon."  
  
"I did, but what does a ghost have to do with my Bea?" Salina pulled out a picture from a pocket in her cargo pants; it was a screenshot from the show that someone had cropped. She showed this to Mrs. DeWitt. Annoyed, the woman shrugged it off, and grimaced. "I say again, what does a poorly done picture have to do with me and my granddaughter?"  
  
Salina sighed and pulled out another picture, the one taken at the Philadelphia County Fairgrounds three years ago that Detective Madison had given Doom Patrol the previous day and held the two together. "See a resemblance yet, Mrs. DeWitt?" Salina asked half exasperated, yet with a note of triumph in her voice.  
  
Mrs. DeWitt's face fell somewhat as she gripped the two pictures in her hands, looking at both at the same time. Rob noticed tears beginning to form in her wrinkled eyes. "May we come in, mam?" he asked. The woman nodded as she opened the door wider, letting Rob and Salina inside.  
  
Salina had her PKE meter ready in her hand.  
  
. . .  
  
NEW YORK CITY  
  
Not too long after, CJ, Andrew, and Brian stood at the front door of the penthouse that Sheena Lyndon was occupying for her visit in New York.  
  
"Is it me", Brian said, "or do I detect the smell of Old Spice in the air?"  
  
"Very funny Gandalf", CJ said dryly. Brian had begun snickering, as he knocked three times on the door. It swung open fast.  
  
"The hell?" And opened enough to catch Andrew off guard, whose first instinct had caused him to grip his neutrona wand.  
  
Standing in the doorway was a short, stocky, middle-aged man, balding at the top of his head. His face contorted into a look of arrogance and distain. "So you're the guys whose supposed to be protecting my Sheena?" he asked. His fat jowls shook as he talked.  
  
"Yes sir", Brian answered. "We're the Ghostbusters: Doom Patrol. Since the attack occurred in New York City, it was at the suggestion of the NYPD that we watch over her while she's here."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. They called me." Extending his hand, the man said:  
  
"Name's Paul McNeely, I'm Sheena's manager and, when she needs it, a father figure."  
  
"I'll bet, daddy-o", Andrew said walking in. Sheena Lyndon's penthouse was nicely furnished, the interior almost peach colored. In one corner, near a large picture window that overlooked the city, was a massive Victorian style piano. The carpet was, surprising to the three Ghostbusters, not shag. In another corner of the room lay a pile of fan letters, some opened, some not, and some presents that the pop star's fans had sent to her.  
  
"Thank you guys for coming, I know it must be a big change in your schedule." The trio turned around to see Sheena Lyndon standing near the television set. She was now wearing a Boston Red Sox jersey with blue jeans.  
  
"It was no problem at all", CJ said gingerly stepping before her, taking a half bow. "Our services are open to anyone who requires them, great or small." Sheena giggled at the comment.  
  
Watching this unfold, Andrew and Brian stand in bewilderment. Brian's arms are folded and his head is titled slightly to the side with a blank expression on his face, while Andrew stands erect, stroking the five o'clock shadow on his face.  
  
At that point, Brian quietly says to Andrew, "...and people think I'M a pushover."  
  
Sheena acknowledges CJ, "Well, thank you very much Dr. London."  
  
"Please, call me CJ", He said. CJ was about to add, "everybody else can" when Andrew interrupted.  
  
"As you know Miss Lyndon, we're not just here to protect you from a ghost", he said. "That spirit seemed to know who you were, and, if I remember right, it wanted you dead? Could you enlighten us as to why it didn't like you very much?"  
  
Sheena bit her lip and looked down. "It'll all be coming out in the newspapers soon anyway." She looked at the window and began walking towards it.  
  
"Her name, as I'm sure you've found out by now, was Beatrix DeWitt, or 'Bea' as we called her. She and I were in a duo together called Heart2Heart."  
  
"Yeah, that's the elementary stuff", Andrew said. "But why did she want to kill you, though? That's what we want to know."  
  
"And how did she get to be a ghost in first place?" Brian continued. "I mean, going through the official police reports, she's listed as being a 'missing person'. There was no body found nor any physical evidence to prove that she was murdered."  
  
Sheena shrugged. "Listen, Bea was a good person and the best band mate that I've had the pleasure of being associated with, more so than the backup singers I get saddled with in the studio. She was an excellent lyricist and knew the right pitches to hit when we harmonized. She was more than just a co-worker; she was my best friend." Sheena sat down on her penthouse suite sofa and hunched herself over. "Paul?" she asked. McNeely reached into the pocket of his blazer and took out a lighter. Sheena then rimmed around inside her purse for a pack of Newport® cigarettes. Grieving with emotion, she held in her tears, sniffled, and brushed back her flowing main of hair with her hand. "But...two years ago, we had a heated falling out shortly before our first appearance on the Pat Reilly Show."  
  
CJ stared uncomfortably at Sheena as McNeely lit her cigarette.  
  
"Yeah, I know...mother is the name for God on the lips of all children. Nicotine is bad for me."  
  
"Oh, that doesn't matter Ms. Lyndon. It's not bothering us. Now, The Patrick Reilly Show?" CJ asked.  
  
"It was a small talent show that for some reason or other got the attention of a lot of big-time record producers. They were scalping the show looking for the next big thing. Bea and I were asked to appear on a Christmas episode, and, right before we went on, Bea refused to show up. The security guard said that she had gone to the ladies room, locked the stall, and began weeping, absolutely refraining to come out."  
  
"Yeah, that's basically how it happened. We were running short on time", McNeely continued for her. "So, naturally, using my keen business sense, I suggested that Sheena should go and sing both parts until I personally handled the problem with Bea. By the time she finally agreed to come out, the show was over and it was too late. The next day, Sheena was flying out to L.A. to talk with Columbia Records execs. Bea stayed behind. She was upset about it, and I felt for her...I really did, but it's not my responsibility. She was old enough to own up to her own affairs."  
  
McNeely continued, "and that was the beginning of Bea's mental decline."  
  
Andrew's eyebrows furrowed, starring a whole into McNeely.  
  
. . .  
  
GLOUCESTER  
  
"Bea was diagnosed as a schizophrenic", Mrs. DeWitt said handing a photograph of Beatrix as a child to Salina and Rob. "And inherited the disease from her father."  
  
"Whatever happened to her parents?" Rob asked.  
  
"They perished in a car collision one Christmas Eve. Her father's car swerved when he tried to avoid hitting a stray dog in the middle of the road, but wound up wrapping it around an oak tree when he lost control of the steering wheel. The police told me that the engine had leaked gasoline moments following the impact. Sparks ignited from the car battery, which consequently caused an explosion. Both of Bea's parents died in flames."  
  
"Damn", Rob said somberly handing the picture back to her.  
  
"I raised Bea from that time forward, watching her skills over the years. She was very talented and very beautiful." Mrs. DeWitt took a moment to compose herself. "Excuse me, dear, I truly apologize. Remembering the past as it were is too much for an old woman's heart."  
  
"We can stop anytime you like, Mrs. DeWitt. There's no pressure if you'd rather not continue." Saline said.  
  
"No, I'm quite all right. We can continue with your investigation. During Bea's childhood, she regularly needed to see a professional psychologist, a move of which I was against as much as I was when she decided to become a singer. But after a while, she never showed her problem. There were no more noticeable bouts of paranoia or schizophrenia, at least until she and Sheena Lyndon began touring. After she came back from the Pat Reilly show, she wasn't the same as she'd been before."  
  
"How so?" Rob asked.  
  
"She'd disappear for periods of time, mostly three or four days before popping up passed out in some kind of opium den. The police would always bring her home, and they even suggested I place her under clinical care. For her own personal safety, they told me." Mrs. DeWitt frowned forlornly. "I should have listened. Last year, Bea went for a drive out to Patterson to see Sheena in concert. The following day, the police found the car parked in a ditch about forty-five minutes from here. She hasn't come home since."  
  
Salina shot Rob a look of sadness after hearing the story, and Rob could sense she was on the verge of tears herself.  
  
"Um, if you don't mind me asking", Rob said, "but did you say earlier that you disagreed with your daughter's career choices?"  
  
"Of course I did", Mrs. DeWitt replied. "I've seen what fame can do to a person, and, to be honest, I didn't want my Bea to be corrupted by all that. The kaleidoscope of drugs, alcohol, and sex on the road would have aggravated her condition further, which it ended up doing."  
  
Rob inquired with his final question. "Mam, can you tell us of the exact nature of your Granddaughter's friendship with Sheena?  
  
Mrs. DeWitt looked calmly at Statler and took in a deep breath. She closed her eyes. "They were friends. Very...close...friends."  
  
. . .  
  
NEW YORK CITY  
  
"Most schizophrenic's conditions become aggravated by stress or the consumption of certain medicines." CJ said, "In fact, all mental conditions become aggravated by drugs."  
  
"Yes", Sheena replied. "But it was just something that Bea got into on the road. Maybe it was the people we associated with or the stress of it all that drove her into that, I don't know. None of us knew that she was a substance abuser until it was too late. When I found out, I tried my best to talk her out of it. She was so headstrong and stubborn, and at times I admired...and loved her for that. If anything, aside from her mental illness, those traits that made her strong were the ones that I'm afraid killed her."  
  
"And that's what led to her breakdown on Pat Reilly", Brian said. He was now looking in McNeely's direction. "And what did you do about the whole thing?"  
  
"Hey kid, don't give me that look", McNeely said defensively. "I tried to get her help, paid for the best doctors and sent her to some of the best sanitariums money could buy, but she kept running away from them and others. We'd only be able to get a toe inside before she'd put up a fight. So it was in everybody's best interests that Bea quit the band. I sent her back to her grandma's place in Gloucester, and even there she caused problems. Heck, you must've read about some of the stuff she did over there in the Tattler or Enquirer. It was all bad publicity for Sheena. And damn it, I honestly think it was a good idea that she chose to make herself disappear when she did. Anymore insanity and it would've soiled the press we had going for Sheena's tour of Scandinavia and South America."  
  
"Son of a bitch! Is that all that matters to you?!" Andrew said angrily. "This was a humans being's life and all you cared about was receiving good publicity for her friend?! You have some nerve! You should have posted guards or something to make sure she remained in those hospitals, you rat bastard!"  
  
"Hey, F--- YOU!" McNeely huffed in Andrew's face and shouted back at him. "Yeah, I coulda' done those things, but when you're busy managing another's career, sometimes you have to cut your loses and make the best of an otherwise bad situation! Honest to God I did the best I could for her! We cared for her like family. So, don't you tell me that I didn't have Beatrix's best interest at heart!"  
  
Sheena, already in tears, came between them. "Both of you just stop! Enough!"  
  
"Simmer down Andy", CJ said pulling Andrew aside. "Listen, I don't like how it all ended up for Bea DeWitt as much you do, but we can't undo what's been done by flying off the handle."  
  
"Yeah, but he could have at least shown some emotion, if any at all. He owed her that much." Andrew growled.  
  
"May we ask you one more question?" Brian asked Sheena. She nodded. "Can you tell us if there is any reason why Bea specifically came after you on Conan O'Brien?"  
  
"The breakup of our friendship wasn't the only thing that was broken up. We were close, ok. ::::sigh:::: Close.  
  
. . .  
  
GLOUCESTER  
  
Mrs. DeWitt continued her story to Salina and Rob. "They were inseparable to each other, but deeply competitive young women."  
  
"You mean Sheena and Bea were rivals", Salina said.  
  
"In the bitterest sense of the word: the times that Sheena was over here, the two of them disagreed a lot over songs and such. Like who should get the most credit for penning the lyrics." Mrs. DeWitt said getting up and going to a nearby drawer, "I have something to show you."  
  
She opened it slowly, and pulled out the first item that came to her hands. It was a faded pink notebook, frayed at the sides from the ravages of time. She handed the book to Salina, who opened it and came upon a page entitled, "Tomorrow's Memories". There were lyrics underneath the title. As Salina read it, her eyebrows began to rise.  
  
"This was on Sheena Lyndon's first album, wasn't it?" she said.  
  
"I don't know, I have never bought any of Sheena's records. Never had the need to." Salina continued flipping through the rest of the notebook, discovering that it was filled with lyrics, sometimes five to a page.  
  
"Whenever she returned home from school and finished her homework, Bea would always write down songs, never knowing whether or not she'd be able to use them in the long run. I guess now none of this matter." "But", she continued, "Their rivalry, as you say Ms. Duran, boiled down to their conflict over whom deserved credit for their songs."  
  
"Would you mind if I kept this?" Salina asked quietly. Mrs. DeWitt looked quizzically at her for a moment, and then nodded her head.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
. . .  
  
"Were you getting a weird vibe in there too?" Rob asked outside as the two were presently leaving Veronica DeWitt's home. They had spent short of an hour talking with Mrs. DeWitt, but enough time had passed for the half-moon to replace the sun, initiating the day into becoming night. They walked towards the Ecto-M, the notebook gripped tightly in Salina's hands.  
  
"I have reason to believe that Bea was there or had been there", she replied. "Maybe her grandmother didn't know it, but the PKE picked up faint ectoplasmic readings."  
  
"So, what do you think about all this? Statler asked. "Grandmother kills granddaughter to save her from the death of stardom?"  
  
"Dunno. It's too bizarre. Is an honorable death one by the blood of one's own kin or a lowly death of the pressures of superstardom? I'd rather not think about that possibility."  
  
"Nor do I. Even if that were the case, a crime like that wouldn't hold up well under court. Not enough evidence to make that conviction "  
  
"Let's hope Brian and the others managed to come up with something better before we contact Detective Madison." After reading through most of the notebook, Salina pointed out another interesting facet. She handed it to Statler. "Rob, take a look at this. Look closely."  
  
Not understanding what she meant initially, Statler gazed over the notebook a little more thoroughly. Then he noticed what Salina was trying to point out. "Many of the lyrics of these songs have mixed penmanship. Beatrix and Sheena wrote those songs together didn't they?"  
  
Salina squinted her eyes as the overhead streetlight shone directly in her face. She partially put her hand above her eyes to block out the brightness. "Yeah; this explains a lot. It's unique that their lyrical compositions were made this way. By this, that legally makes Beatrix and Sheena equal partners."  
  
"Hmm?" Rob replied as he removed the keys for the car from his pocket.  
  
"There is more to this case than meets the eye." Salina remarked before entering the passenger side of the vehicle.  
  
Chapter 2: Wish You Were Here  
  
CJ, Brian, and Andrew had spent the night previously in an apartment across the hall from Sheena's, although Andrew had volunteered to hold a night vigil standing at the front door of Sheena's suite. Back in the basement of Doom Patrol Headquarters, CJ was working with Rob on the final adjustments to their E.C.U. On one knee, CJ tightened steels bolts onto a metal panel on the opening latch of the ghost trap entrance of the machine.  
  
"Okay", CJ said to Rob, "What we know is this: Beatrix DeWitt had a long history of diagnosed paranoia and schizophrenia. While on road tours, she got herself screwed-up pretty bad. More likely she succumbed to the pressures and unrelenting schedule of travel and rising fame. What ever it was, it doesn't matter. What does matter is who our suspects are. We have the grandmother, Veronica DeWitt, with a possible motive of foul play. As bizarre as it seems, she could very well have had something to do with Bea's whereabouts. One scenario could be that she faked Bea's disappearance to protect her from harming herself, because at the route her life was on...Bea more than likely would have perished sooner than later. Further more, the accident reports stated that it was Mrs. DeWitt who was the first to place in the call that she was missing, long before the police found her car in a ditch?"  
  
"Mrs. DeWitt didn't mention that part to Salina and me", Rob said. "And from our understanding, she and her grandmother were very close."  
  
"So was that woman who drowned her 3 children in a lake in North Carolina back in 1996. Sadly, we cannot rule Mrs. DeWitt out of this investigation", CJ replied. "Suspect 2 is Paul McNeely: he practically admitted his own guilt when he said that it was a good thing that Bea went missing shortly before the first leg of Sheena's tour of Europe."  
  
"You got a point there", Rob retorted, extending his open hand for CJ to grab it and pull him up.  
  
"You forgot another important suspect." CJ turned his head surprised to see Erin in the basement. "Sheena Lyndon had the most to gain from Bea's downfall. That appearance on the Pat O'Reilly show gave her a great boost in her career."  
  
"True", Rob said. "Although that still doesn't mean she'd kill her best friend just to further along her own career...would it?"  
  
"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men and women?" CJ joked, taking on Orson Welles "Shadow" voice.  
  
Rob smiles, looks at Erin, and shakes his head in amusement while pointing his thumb in CJ's direction, "He never gives up."  
  
"Oh, I almost forgot why I came down here." She handed CJ an envelope. "It's from Detective Madison."  
  
"What's it say?" Rob asked as CJ opened it and began skimming it. CJ looked at him briefly and continued studying the document.  
  
"It's a bank record", he said simply handing it to Rob. "Apparently they're all amounts that Sheena paid her production crew between the year 2002 and 2003. The last amount, as you see, ended on October 3, 2003."  
  
"Two days later, Beatrix DeWitt goes missing and almost a year later comes back to haunt her former employer", Erin added.  
  
"Whoa" Rob said, "let me get this straight: this means that even after Bea had her breakdown, she was still getting paid."  
  
"That's what it says", CJ said as be bowed his head and quizzically cupped his hands, while tapping his index fingers on his nose. "But for how much and who was her benefactor?"  
  
"I would say the record company probably had a hand in it", Erin said. "There are too many zeroes for those checks to have come directly from Sheena, so somebody up there would have had to have been paying Beatrix for something."  
  
Rob thought for a second. "Songwriting", he said simply.  
  
"Songwriting?" Erin and CJ simultaneously asked.  
  
"Yeah, when Salina and I went over to Bea's grandmother's house, she gave us a notebook full of songs that appear on Sheena's albums."  
  
"But who could have commissioned her to write material for her?" Erin asked.  
  
"They both did, Erin" Rob spoke up. "Every last song in that notebook was co-written by Sheena and Beatrix."  
  
"You know what?" Erin asked.  
  
"What?" CJ and Rob replied.  
  
"Since they co-wrote the songs, they both have equally billing. Bea turns up missing, but her ghost is active, which means she must be dead. If Bea is still being compensated for her earnings working with Sheena post mortem, doesn't that mean that the money is going to somewhere or to someone?  
  
Rob put his hands on his hips and looked at Erin. "Well, I'll be damned."  
  
"If that's the case, then Bea's death could not have been an accident." CJ remarked.  
  
"And we've only got 10 hours before Sheena's performance tonight at the Hippodrome", Rob grabs a oil rag from a nearby work bench and wipes his hands clean of dirt. He takes out a toothpick from his pocket and puts it in his mouth. Turning his back to Erin and CJ, he folds his arms somberly "We need to be ready for another attack."  
  
Chapter 3: Etude, Sheena?  
  
Five hours later at Doom Patrol Headquarters...  
  
"...So that is the situation", CJ explained to the others. "Not as concrete as what you might have thought, but is still the only plausible theories that we have at this time."  
  
Most of the group was upstairs, huddled around Erin's desk. On top of it were papers and photographs of Beatrix DeWitt, Sheena Lyndon, and the rest of the players in the drama. Just then, a door could be heard creaking open in the background. Everyone turns around to see Salina walk into the personnel office. Nearly a half hour ago, it had begun pouring rain outside; Salina was wrapped up tight, dripping wet. After closing the door behind her, she put away her coat on the rack behind the seating area.  
  
Salina shook away some of the water off of her clothes and ran her fingers through her slingy, raven-colored hair, pushing it back so she could see. "Nice night isn't it?" Salina joked.  
  
"Indeed it is", CJ replied.  
  
"Well, everyone, I just came from a meeting with Detective Madison", Rob said. "He'll have backup ready for us at tonight's concert just in case anything happens. After our more recent television debut on NBC, he said he's not taking any chances. His exact words were 'if you screw up, its my ass'."  
  
"Its reassuring to know that he has complete and utter confidence in our abilities." Andrew sarcastically said with his foot propped up on a chair near Erin's desk while cracking his knuckles at the same time.  
  
CJ continued with his speech, "Before you walked in, Salina, we were discussing the facts of this case. To make a long story short, we know what we got, but we don't know where it's going. Everyone is a suspect, but they all have concrete alibis.  
  
Stroking his chin, Andrew said:  
  
"Well, I don't like that McNeely. I trust him about as far as I can throw him. Give me 5 minutes in a room alone with him and he'll be begging to come clean."  
  
"Yeah", Brian agreed. "Seems like he's the kind of guy who'd sell out his own mother for a few grand."  
  
"But wait a minute", Brian interjected. "We can't honestly say that it's all McNeely's fault that Bea went down. Remember, Sheena said that she was trying to get Bea to kick her drug addiction."  
  
"Right," Erin said, "but then you gotta ask yourselves how Bea got hooked in the beginning. Common sense says that she must have been coerced into consuming that stuff. It's the way of the street, supply and demand. Drug pushers offer an easy way out at a cheap price. At the point in her life where she was, she became easily susceptible and depressed enough to try it. Because think about it, no one in their right mind would willingly waste their life away, especially if they were on the verge of superstardom. Now, we know that Bea had been receiving a lot of money for her time spent on her rise to fame with Sheena, and that following her apparent death, the checks never stopped coming. The question to ask is, who would have the most to gain from Beatrix's death?"  
  
"What are you getting at, Erin?" CJ said as a trepid expression grew on his face.  
  
"CJ, I'm sorry to say it, but maybe Sheena is responsible for her death and possibly for introducing her to drugs. You spoke with her before, and you said she seemed more nerve-wracked over this more than anyone else. Her alibi isn't as tight as the other suspects," Erin said.  
  
CJ stood firmly and frowned in denial, "I have a hard time believing that. She doesn't seem like the type and couldn't possibly..."  
  
Interrupting CJ, Rob sighed listlessly and looked at both he and Erin "And Mrs. DeWitt's claims were true that they have been competitive rivals over the years. As much as I hate to say it, Sheena may be directly involved because she has everything to gain. "  
  
"So we can assume that Sheena, consumed with selfishness, got her on drugs, which aggravated her mental condition to the point where she had a complete mental breakdown", Erin explained. "That got her out of the way professionally, but the supposed victim was still alive and something had to be done about that. She takes advantage of Bea's disappearances and finds her somewhere and takes her for a drive, most likely in her own car, leaving Bea's car in that ditch most likely. Whatever happens after that is probable guesswork."  
  
"But it all leads to the same thing still", Brian said, having been quiet and listening most of the time. "Bea was killed, her body never found, and now she's back to reek vengeance on her murderer."  
  
"You don't look too well CJ", Salina said, noticing that CJ had suddenly gone pale and had sat down.  
  
"I...I just don't believe that she can be capable of such a thing", he said. "She doesn't seem like the type to do that."  
  
"Like you said down in the basement", Rob said, "'who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men and women'."  
  
CJ didn't say anything. He got up solemnly from his chair and said:  
  
"I have to go call Madison and tell him what we've managed to come up with. You guys go ahead and start packing the Ecto-M. We're expected to be there as protection tonight."  
  
Salina spoke out, "But, CJ..."  
  
"We'll do our job the way it's meant to be done." 


	3. Crimes and Punishments

Ghostbusters Doom Patrol: Till the Clouds Roll By, Part 3 and Conclusion  
  
Chapter 4: Midnight Blue  
  
"Are you sure it's all right to bring CJ along on this one?" Andrew asked Rob, nodding towards the scientist's direction. CJ was busy prepping the proton packs, checking to make sure the power cells were at maximum charge (which wasn't necessary, as the packs have a half-life of 5,000 years).  
  
Rob shrugged it off. "I trust him", he said. "He knows when there's a job to be done and how to do it."  
  
"Right, but what if he lets his emotions get the best of him?"  
  
"You won't have to worry about that." Rob and Andrew were surprised to hear that CJ had heard them. He tossed them their packs. Looking at Andrew, he said:  
  
"I may be addled a little bit, maybe off-kilter, but that won't interfere with my job. I intend to see the guilty party swing and to help deliver that justice."  
  
With that last comment, he went over to his desk and pulled out a pair of Ecto-goggles. Andrew shook his head.  
  
"And people say I'm the scary one."  
  
"Only in battle my friend", Rob added. "Only in battle."  
  
He walked over to an oak door that led conveniently to the garage of the Doom Patrol. Turning on a light overhead, Rob looked at a car hidden underneath a tattered smock. Removing the smock, he was greeted by the sight of the Ecto-M.  
  
"How're we for gas?" Brian asked.  
  
"We should be pretty good", Rob replied. "Enough for a trip there and back." Pulling out a small remote from his pocket, he pressed a red button in the center. The garage door rolled open lazily, as a brisk night wind blew in. "Hell of a night to be causing trouble", Brian said, wrapping his cloak around his head.  
  
"Okay, is everybody ready?" Rob shouted inside the Highrise to everyone.  
  
"Yeah." The replies of three voices were heard as CJ, Andrew, and Salina walked out towards the Ecto-M.  
  
"Great, let's move em out!"  
  
The Doom Patrol was not more than a few ways down the road a bit, when Andrew (who was sitting in the passenger seat beside Rob the driver), turned on the radio. "How about some tunes?" he asked everybody.  
  
"Put it on 97.3", Rob said. "They should be doing some kind of radio broadcast of the festivities down in Central Park."  
  
"I wonder why they changed it at the last minute from the Hippodrome?" Salina asked. Brian shrugged.  
  
"I don't try to figure out the media", he said. "They put so much pressure on these stars nowadays that they don't even get anything looking like a life anymore."  
  
"Fame'll do that", Rob replied.  
  
A look of disgust crossed over Andrew's face as station came in tune.  
  
. . .  
  
"Hello New York!" Jane Robards of WUPN said, waving to her cameraman. "In case you didn't know it, I'm standing right in front of the gates to Central Park, where in just a few moments Miss Sheena Lyndon will be performing. Here's hoping that the events two days ago on the Conan O'Brien Show haven't altered her performance one bit! And I'm just as glad to be here tonight too! Celebs ranging from Sir Paul McCartney to Shania Twain, to, rumor has it, Prince himself have all showed up for what will most likely be a landmark performance in the already growing career of Sheena Lyndon. Wait, do I see Sheena herself? Yes, that is Sheena! Miss Lyndon, care to answer some questions really quickly?"  
  
Wearing a ten gallon cowboy hat to cover her identity, Sheena stopped helplessly as Robards waved a microphone in her face, but put on a smile.  
  
"What do you want?" she asked pleasantly.  
  
"Well, rumors have been circulating that your manager, Paul McNeely has personally hired the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol to provide protection in case you get attacked again by a spirit. Is that correct?"  
  
"Paul's only taking the proper precautions necessary to insure that nothing happens to me", she said, slightly annoyed at the question. In her purse, her hands fiddled around a carton of cigarettes  
  
"Really?" Robards said, her eyebrow beginning to rise. "Even though you know how badly they did protecting you on Conan O'Brien?"  
  
"Hey, people make mistakes", Sheena said raising her hands. "It happens, it's a human nature. Besides, Paul was insistent that they protect me last night and they did a very good job of it."  
  
"We've also heard via the Internet that Sheena knows who the ghost that attacked her was?" The color drained from Sheena's face. "Is that true?"  
  
"No," Sheena said breaking out into a sweat. "In fact, I haven't heard a thing about that one. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to be getting ready for my set."  
  
With that, Sheena walked off in a huff, her hand practically crushing the box. Jane Robards suppressed a laugh as she faced the cameras once again. "We'll be back ladies and gentleman with more interviews from SHEENA LYNDON—LIVE IN CENTRAL PARK!"  
  
. . .  
  
"Screw her", Andrew said simply turning off the radio. "I'm really beginning to hate her, you know that?"  
  
Brian shrugged. "She's just doing her duty as a journalist", he said.  
  
"I'd agree", Salina replied, "if I can only figure out what that duty was."  
  
"Okay, so does everybody have an idea as to how we're going to play this?" Rob asked.  
  
"Yeah", Brian said. "We go in and make sure that Bea's ghost doesn't cause hell again. That's what we got hired for."  
  
"And if her ghost does show up...?" Salina asked.  
  
"Let's not think about that part yet", Rob said. "All we've got to go on is guesses. It's up to Madison and the Philly P.D. to make that judgment call, if it should come to that."  
  
"If it should come to that", CJ said, almost from out of nowhere, "We need to do our jobs the way it's meant to be done."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Brian asked, but CJ said nothing else.  
  
. . .  
  
"A big crowd has turned up tonight for what may be the biggest American concert of Sheena Lyndon's career", Jane Robards said rehearsing her lines for the after the break. "Watch out Britney, move over Christina, there just may be a new pop diva on the horizon! We'll be back after these messages. Okay, did you get all that Mike?"  
  
"Every word Jane", her cameraman replied. "You know, it's great that you got us all tickets to see this."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Robards said drinking from her water bottle. "If the studio wasn't willing to shell out the big bucks for tickets, I would've been filming the thing by myself, which ain't gonna happen any time soon!"  
  
"Right", said Mike. No sooner had the words escaped his lips when two uniformed police officers walked up to Robards and her cameraman.  
  
"Excuse me, but can I help you?" Robards asked, a tone of indignity in her voice.  
  
"Yeah, you can clear your crew and leave the premises", one of the officers asked. Robards' eyes nearly popped out of her head.  
  
"By whose authority?"  
  
"Mine." Stepping between the two officers was Detective Madison, brandishing his badge. "We got a report that the possibility of another ghost attack is imminent and the last thing we need on our consciences is a dead reporter and her crew."  
  
"YOU CAN'T ORDER ME AROUND LIKE A DOG!" Robards screamed. "I have the freedom of the press on my side! It's in the Declaration of Independence for god's sake!"  
  
"True", Madison said, "but what good will it do you if you end up like Conan on his show? Besides, you're not the only one. We've already had to remove several CBS, NBC, and FOX news crews."  
  
"And why's that?"  
  
"Capacity", Madison replied. "Too many people here as it is now and we need to make room. But don't worry; I'm sure you've got enough footage to show on the 11:00 p.m. news."  
  
"He's got a point Jane", said Robards' cameraman, already beginning to pack away his equipment.  
  
"Shut up! Okay, who gave the report? Was it that Ghostbusters Doom Patrol?"  
  
"That's none of your concern", Madison replied and turned his back on Jane Robards, his hands in his pockets.  
  
"Gee Jane, you handled that quite well." Mike was about to put a hand on her shoulder when Jane turned around. Her face had gone red with anger. She said quietly, yet with a guttural tone in her voice:  
  
"Let's go."  
  
Watching Robards walk away in a huff, Madison turned to one of the officers at his side. "Are the Doom Patrol here yet?" he asked.  
  
"No word yet sir, though odds are they'll be here before the concert starts."  
  
"What about Sheena Lyndon?"  
  
"She arrived just a few minutes ago."  
  
"And her manager?"  
  
"Is running late sir."  
  
"Last question: Is Captain Jarrett here?"  
  
"The Mobile Vehicles Division 2 just pulled up sir", the officer said, pointing to a large gray mobile suit walking up a path being cleared by a small vehicle bearing the Philadelphia P.D. coat of arms. Behind the mobile suit was an armored vehicle, from which a taller man with thin dark hair stepped out to face Madison.  
  
"Glad you could make it Jarrett", Madison said shaking his hand. "Is everything all set for the opening act?"  
  
"Should be", Jarrett said. "I've got Baltimore posted in our Number 1 Forward mobile suit on the west end, and me and Riley will post guard on the eastern sector of the park."  
  
"Good, we can't have anything go wrong here tonight."  
  
"It's too bad that you had to get rid of the press. If all goes well, we would've had some great exposure."  
  
"Just do your duty, Jarrett, and worry about exposure later."  
  
. . .  
  
"You don't need to worry about the audience if something should happen", Madison said to Rob. "I've got officers posted on all sectors of the land. I even got the Mobile Vehicles Unit 2 out there in their mobile suits should something happen."  
  
"It won't amount to a hell o' beans", Rob said, "but at least we can that the audience was well protected."  
  
"Yeah", Madison said looking over at the throng of audience members. "Before I forget, no reporters are in the area. Any and all cameras were confiscated and the paparazzi escorted out of the area."  
  
"I wish I'd been there when you found Jane Robards", Andrew said.  
  
The Doom Patrol and Madison were standing below the stage, where, in a mere ten minutes, Sheena Lyndon would descend towards it and begin her show. The stage itself was a reminder of the one used at Woodstock '99, except, in size, it was slightly smaller in scale, and not as flashy.  
  
"What about guards at her trailer?" Brian asked.  
  
"Already covered", Madison replied. "Nothings happened." He then added:  
  
"Yet." There was an almost finality in his tone of voice, as if he expected something big to happen before the night was over.  
  
Salina noticed CJ standing near a post, staring out at the moon instead of the concert. She startled him as she put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly.  
  
"Sorry", she said. "Didn't mean to scare ya."  
  
"It's all right", he said, and continued to stare up at the lunar scene.  
  
"You know, you've been weird since we left the Highrise", she said. "If there's something bothering you, don't let it eat you from the inside out!"  
  
"Sounds like something I'd say", CJ replied dryly.  
  
"That's why I said it."  
  
"Well, if you want to know, yeah, I am kind of bothered, but by the fact that there are at least a quarter of a million people out there who bought tickets to this thing and they have no idea that their idol is a murderer."  
  
"That's not what's bugging you", Salina said. "People buy tickets to rap concerts, knowing that the star could have killed someone at one time or other, but that doesn't stop them from going."  
  
"Yeah, but doesn't it bother you in the fact that there's no justice? They get away with these crimes for years without getting caught, and, if Sheena did do what we think she did, she'll find some way to squirm out of it."  
  
"A-HA!" Salina said. "That's what's the matter with you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You can't accept the fact that Sheena did do it, and you don't know if they'll be fairness if it does turn out she is the murderer."  
  
"I thought you were into studying monsters, not getting inside my head, Mrs. Freud."  
  
Salina laughed. "Alright, have it your way. Concert's about to begin, so we need you to be in the right state of mind if Bea does decide to make another unscheduled guest appearance."  
  
"Don't worry about me", CJ said, finally beginning to cheer up. "I'll be all right."  
  
At Sheena's trailer, the door swung as the popstar walked out of it. Wearing high-heeled boots with a pink short-sleeved shirt, she held in her hand a Rickenbacker 12 string guitar. Before making her way to the stage, she stopped to talk with the Doom Patrol.  
  
"I...I just wanted to thank you all for what you've done for me", she said. Her face gleamed, indicating that she had just been crying.  
  
"You don't need to say that", Salina said. "It's what we do."  
  
"Yeah, but..."  
  
"Look, just go up there on the stage and do your stuff", Rob said pushing her up the stairs.  
  
Chapter 5: Do You Remember Love?  
  
"GOOD EVENING NEW YORK CITYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!" Sheena's voice resounded all around the area, pumped out by the loudspeakers that were placed on both sides of the stage. She looked the way a rock star should.  
  
"Are you ready to rock?" The audience replied with an all around YES!  
  
"I can't hear you, New York. I say, are you ready to rock?" An even louder agreement from the audience was heard.  
  
"Great, let's kick this party into high gear with a bang! This one's from my first album, some of you might know the words better than I do. Here's 'Do You Remember Love?'!"  
  
"That one was in Bea's notebook", Salina said, not taking her eyes off Sheena.  
  
The Mobile Vehicles Unit 2 had placed a guardrail around the crowd, not to keep Sheena protected, but rather keep the audience safe in case something should go wrong.  
  
"That thing looks like a Gundam", Brian said, staring up at the mobile suit (they were actually 8 meters tall), which was piloted by a young woman with brown hair. She was looking out at the concertgoers from the mobile suit's cockpit. Looking down and noticing Brian, she waved at him, and shot him a thumbs up. Brian responded with a peace sign.  
  
"Part of a new shift in police technology", Rob said. "I'd read the report on them while in Dalton. Man, kind of makes me wish I had me one of those." Rob's thoughts were interrupted when a black Volvo pulled up behind the stage. Stepping out of the vehicle was Sheena's manager, Paul McNeely, wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap. In his hand he held a brown paper bag.  
  
"I almost missed the show", he said running up to Rob and Detective Madison. "Did anything happen yet?"  
  
"The show just started Mr. McNeely", Rob said pleasantly. He eyed the short man carefully, and began to understand why Andrew and the others thought of him as a slimeball. His eyes quickly diverted to McNeely's bag.  
  
"Great", McNeely replied, somewhat out of breath, placing the bag in his coat pocket. He took a quick look around and began scratching his head. "There's something wrong here", he said.  
  
"What is it now, Paulie?" Andrew asked. But McNeely didn't hear him.  
  
"No reporters!" McNeely said pointing towards the audience. "The biggest concert of Sheena's U.S. tour and not one news van!"  
  
"Blame me for that", Madison said stepping up to McNeely. "I ordered most of the journalists out of the area before the concert began. But there are some local ones out there if you look closely enough."  
  
"For who's safety? Sheena's?"  
  
"For their safety", Madison replied, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it in his mouth. "Too many people here already to risk any major injuries should something break out. And besides, were you not the one worrying about bad publicity for your meal ticket?"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" McNeely said. But Madison just patted him on the shoulder.  
  
"Enjoy the concert", he told Rob and the Doom Patrol.  
  
Chapter 6: The Flower of Carnage  
  
Sheena went through five songs on the stage. There had been no ectoplasmic activity for one hour. Brian kept looking back at his watch and at Rob.  
  
"We've only got 56 minutes left before this whole thing ends", he said. "Are you sure that she was going to show up tonight?" CJ rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged, saying:  
  
"I don't know. Maybe there was something more that we missed in all of this?"  
  
"All right everyone!" Sheena shouted from the stage, finishing up a cover of the Beatles 'Helter Skelter', "this next one is from my new album. You all know it was the one that I performed that night on Conan..." There was an unearthly silence in the air, as everyone paid attention now.  
  
"And some of you might have heard that there might be a connection between me and the ghost. Well, there is. The ghost was a very dear friend of mine when she was living. Her name was Beatrix DeWitt. She was my friend and mate through thick and thin, but she...lost her way. This next song is dedicated to you Bea! Here's 'Somewhere and Nowhere'!" The crowd's cheering reached a near-deafening tone as they cheered resoundingly.  
  
Sheena began the first few chords with a solo guitar strum, reminiscent of David Gilmour for "Wish You Were Here", before a heavy drum program followed.  
  
"I hope you're doin' well Selling art and everything I like ya stuff, good for you I'll buy a piece maybe two.  
  
Do you ever think of me? D'ya remember all our stupid dreams? Rainbows and pots o' gold So much to prove before we got old... "  
  
"Corny lyrics", Brian said stifling a laugh, "but I love that drum downbeat." He looked over at Rob, who had a ruminating look upon his face as he scratched his goatee. "Something up?"  
  
"This was the song that Sheena played on Conan, right?" Rob said, beginning to unsheathe his neutrona wand.  
  
"Yeah", Brian replied.  
  
"And didn't Bea make her reappearance in the middle of this song?"  
  
Now Brian began to catch on to what Rob was saying. "We only have a few bars left before it hits that part, if there is a connection."  
  
"Hey Sal, do you remember if 'Somewhere and Nowhere' was in that notebook of Bea's?"  
  
"Yeah", Salina replied. "Bea wrote it."  
  
"That's what I was afraid of", Rob said mournfully as he charged his neutrona wand. "Guys, get ready because Beatrix DeWitt is about to make another surprise appearance."  
  
The lights that surrounded the stage and park had suddenly gone out, killing all of the juice going to the amplifiers and guitars. Sheena stood there on the darkened stage, looking bewildered as she tried to find McNeely.  
  
"What the blue hell is going on in there?" McNeely screamed at the main engineer. "Are you stooges asleep or something out there?"  
  
"Sir, all lights are registered as functional", the engineer replied. "There must be some sort of signal jamming the circuitry."  
  
"Let me see that", Rob interjected, bending down to see the power battery cells. "Yep, he's right. These cells are running right."  
  
"Then...how...who?"  
  
"Only a specter of certain power and emotion can cause signal interference like that", Brian explained.  
  
"What's that mean?" McNeely asked, in much the same tone of voice that he had given Madison. Before Brian could get the words out of his mouth, CJ explained for him.  
  
"It means she's back", he said eerily as he began charging his pack. He took quick look at Salina and smiled.  
  
"Fair play", he muttered to himself. He didn't want to give Salina the satisfaction in knowing that she had been right. If he did, he knew he'd never be able to hear the end of it.  
  
A fog bank began to roll into the park, engulfing most of the audience as they shared Sheena's look of confusion and fear. The MV2's mobile suit stood out of the ominous fog like trees.  
  
"Captain Jarrett", the female pilot Brian had waved to said into his headset microphone. "What are the orders?"  
  
"Keep on the lookout for any panic, Baltimore", Jarrett said. "That's the first and foremost thing we have to prevent. The Ghostbusters can handle the rest."  
  
"All yours now kids", Madison said nodding towards the group.  
  
"Thanks", CJ said wryly as the five Patrollers walked up towards the stage.  
  
The fog began creeping its way towards the stage, surrounding the spot where Sheena stood. The misty black cloud wrapped itself around Sheena, but not before cutting off her guitar. Her backup band had already dispersed off the stage.  
  
"You think that you have the audience in the palm of your hand, don't you Sheena?" the fog said, the smoke beginning to materialize into hands as it wrapped itself around Sheena's throat. "It could have been me and you, but someone had to be left out, didn't they?"  
  
"Believe me Bea", Sheena struggled to say, trying to remove the hands from her throat. "I'm...sorry."  
  
"Not good enough!" Bea said, as her face began to show through the fog. It was not the pretty, young face that the Doom Patrol had seen that night on Conan; no, this was truly Bea's soul showing, one that had been corrupted by outside influences.  
  
The audience watched keenly as the drama began to play itself out, most of who tried to get away. Baltimore in the Number 1 mobile suit followed her orders and kept her area from disintegrating into chaos, reaching down with her mobile suit's hand and putting audience members back behind the guardrail. At the entrance, the rest of the MV2 were policing the area.  
  
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IS GOING IN THERE?!" Jane Robards screamed at the officer. "IT'S NEWS! LET ME BACK IN THERE!"  
  
"Sorry ma'am", the officer said meekly. "We've been given strict orders not to let anybody in or out."  
  
. . . .  
  
"Okay", Rob said to Brian. "Do it." Brian nodded as his eyes took on the familiar misty blue of his powers.  
  
Suddenly, an ethereal wall formed itself around the stage, cutting off all sight from the audience. They could not see a thing. McNeely looked around, frightened as he tried to retain his bodily functions.  
  
"Sir", Scott said to Madison in his Number 2 mobile suit. "Should we be worried about that?"  
  
"No", Madison said. "Just do your duty and let them take care of theirs." He looked at the wall, and hoped that at least they knew what they were doing.  
  
Chapter 7: The Flower of Carnage  
  
"Nice color you choose", Andrew said looking around. "Makes this scene even less scary than it seems."  
  
"Ms. Beatrix DeWitt", CJ said yelling towards the ghost. She turned towards him, as her eyes flashed, causing an invisible wind to knock the Doom Patrol back some.  
  
"This is going to be harder than we thought", Brian said, blocking the wind from his friends with a shield. "She's not going to listen to reason."  
  
"So we have to make her", CJ said, climbing from behind the shield.  
  
"What are you about to do?" Salina asked.  
  
"About to prove that you were right." CJ stepped towards the ghost of Bea and pointed his neutrona wand at her, firing without any hesitation. He shut the pack off, but Bea was still in a containment field. Nodding towards Brian and the others, the shield disappeared.  
  
"What the hell is this?" she demanded.  
  
"A new containment strategy, just for you that is", he said. "Just long enough for you to listen to what we have to say."  
  
Sheena got up from the ground and gasped for breath, smiling at CJ. "Thank you so much CJ for helping me", she said. But CJ shook his head at her.  
  
"I'm sorry", he replied somberly. "But your thanks are a bit premature." His attention looked towards McNeely  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Sheena asked.  
  
CJ took a deep breath and sighed. "By that, I means that only one truth must prevail. And you, Paul, would do well to listen to this as well."  
  
"Two years ago, you were pushed into a career by McNeely because you were the only one who knew both yours and Bea's vocal parts. Why? Because Bea suffered a mental breakdown that makes Brian Wilson look sane."  
  
"Yeah, that's what I told you", Sheena said. "What's the need to repeat this?"  
  
"Because I wanted Bea...excuse me, Miss DeWitt, to know that you did not kill her."  
  
Bea's ghost stopped thrashing in the containment field and her eyes looked towards CJ. "What are you talking about?" she said, her voice hollow and booming around Brian's aura. "Sheena always wanted more credit than she actually deserved! She knew I was the better of both of us and wanted me out of the way. That's why she didn't even lift a finger to help me when I needed her most."  
  
"And that's the truth", CJ continued. "You see, if there's one thing that Sheena can be guilty of, it's not helping you at a point in both your lives when you needed her. That's a common guilt of anybody."  
  
"So you're saying that Sheena is totally innocent", McNeely said regaining his senses. "Then who did it, Bea's grandma?"  
  
"Oh no, she's innocent as well. She was telling the truth all along. But there is one person who had the most to gain from Bea's disappearance and death and that was you Paul."  
  
Paul backed away, his eyes staring coldly at CJ. "That's utterly ridiculous", he said.  
  
"You tightened the noose around your own neck when you openly admitted that you would do anything for Sheena's career, indicating that you would beg, borrow, steal, or even murder to get it there. You recognized early on that Sheena was clearly the star, but the main obstacle to getting her there was to eliminate Bea."  
  
"You knew that Bea had a mental condition that she had to take special medicine for. Trusting you, she most likely took some kind of substance that you conveniently slipped into her medication. Not enough to get her hooked on in the beginning, but enough to start. Slowly but surely you started to get the required results. Then it all came down to the wire at Pat O'Reilly, and that's where you knew that she would be out of the way for the time being."  
  
"However, you kept paying Bea for songwriting credit, thereby in the eyes of the law turning over most of the material she wrote for Sheena as property of Columbia, Sheena, or yourself. Bea may have been out of the way professionally but she was still dogging Sheena's career with whatever antic she got herself into, as her grandmother told us. So you hired someone to keep track of her whereabouts, not an easy task, but it paid off big when you did manage to find her."  
  
"I'm not admitting anything", McNeely said coldly. "What other proof do you have that I would have committed such a heinous act against my client?"  
  
"Detective Madison sent us the bank records, which we analyzed ourselves. Not much to put you behind bars, but enough to give the courts something to drool over. You knew when all of this broke out that if the regular police got wind of it, their own investigation would have unearthed all of this, but you took a gamble on a third rate outfit like ours to not foul things up for you or your meal ticket."  
  
There was a silence all around as CJ finished up. The containment field disappeared as Bea floated down towards Sheena.  
  
"Is this true", she asked her, looking straight into her eyes.  
  
"Bea, believe me, if I could I would turn back the clock to help you", Sheena said tearfully. "I would throw it all away just to have you back." But McNeely interrupted the teary reunion.  
  
"But who's going to believe a word you lot say?" he asked looking at CJ. "There're no cops here to back it all up."  
  
"True", Rob interjected and pointed towards Brian. His eyes flashed once as a small portion of the blue aura that surrounded the stage disappeared, just enough for Madison and a small unit of police officers to walk in but not enough for the audience to see.  
  
"Paul McNeely!" Madison said forcefully. "You are under arrest for conspiring in the murder of Beatrix DeWitt!"  
  
McNeely's eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of his head, as CJ pulled out a small communicator from his pocket.  
  
"Nifty things they invent these days?" he said tossing it McNeely. "While you and I were chatting, Madison and the Philly P.D. were busy listening on the other end." He grinned at McNeely. "Hope Riker's Island suits your tastes."  
  
"You son of a bitch!" McNeely shouted throwing down the communicator, shattering into pieces when it hit the ground. He reached into his coat pocket and snatched the brown paper bag out. His hand was inside when the bottom exploded in fire and smoke. CJ grunted as he felt something like a bee graze past his arm and hit one of the steel railings of the stage. Feeling woozy, he looked up at McNeely and realized that he had a gun in his hand.  
  
"It's not going to end this way!" he shouted at CJ. "Not when she needs me more than anything else in the world!" He aimed the barrel at CJ (who was on the ground now clutching his near-lifeless arm) and cocked the barrel. Closing his eyes, CJ knew that it would be all over pretty quick. Behind him, Rob and Andrew tried to make a run at McNeely.  
  
"Stop him!" Madison shouted towards the officers.  
  
Then all of a sudden, the air was pierced by a loud BANG. The noise deafened CJ but to his surprise, he did not feel the hot steel enter his body. A bead of sweat ran down his nose as he looked at McNeely, the smoking gun still in his hand. His face had gone completely white. CJ closed his eyes again and turned his head in the direction McNeely was looking at, and then slowly opened them.  
  
Lying on her back, with her life-blood pouring out from the wound in the middle of her stomach, was Sheena Lyndon. Nobody moved for those few seconds that passed, but suddenly Madison came to his senses and ordered for the nearest officers to jump McNeely.  
  
"You're under arrest", Madison said, but did not state the charge yet as he placed the handcuffs upon McNeely's wrists.  
  
CJ went over towards Sheena and looked at her eye to eye. He could see it very plainly now: even if the paramedics were to make here on time, it was obvious that she was going to die. Staring at her now, he could not find any words to comfort her.  
  
Suddenly, he felt a presence drift beside him. It was Bea; but it was not the angry, vengeful spirit that the Doom Patrol had been fighting for the past few days. Her entire demeanor had changed. From her pocket, Salina pulled out the picture that Bea's grandmother had had of her granddaughter, and realized that she had taken on a more physical form. She now resembled her old self.  
  
"Sorry Bea", Sheena said weakly, making the attempt to grin up at her old friend. "I—I didn't mean for any of this to happen this way." She coughed once and then shivered. Bea took Sheena's hand and squeezed it hard.  
  
"Hey, are you seeing this?" Rob whispered over to Brian.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That light, above Sheena."  
  
"I can't see a damn thing."  
  
A bright, almost ethereal light had begun to shine down upon Sheena's face. She shivered once again before she closed her eyes for good. Although nobody could quite see it, an aura drifted slowly from Sheena's body and towards the light.  
  
"Race you to the top Bea!" Sheena said brightly towards her friend. Bea smiled back and nodded.  
  
"You just wait; you'll be eating my dust soon!" Bea retorted.  
  
Sheena grinned again, and then looked back towards CJ. "Thank you, Dr. London, for all your help", she said. Drifting dreamily towards him, she kissed him on the cheek. With that, she started towards the light as it disappeared behind her.  
  
"Are you crying?" Brian asked, looking in Andrew's direction.  
  
"Of course not", the hunter replied. "Windy out here. I got something in my eye." Brian rolled his eyes and elbowed him as Andrew continued to protest.  
  
The light gone, Bea turned her attention towards McNeely, and her form changed again as her eyes flamed red. Gritting her teeth, she held up her hands as she pushed the Philadelphia Police Department out of her way, knocking them down off the stage. She grabbed McNeely by his collars.  
  
"So, you like fucking with other people's lives like pawns, eh?" She lifted him high above the stage, as an unknown wind swept through.  
  
McNeely pleaded with Bea as he held up his hands in defense. "Listen, I never meant for it to go this far. I---I---I only wanted what was best for Sheena and she...."  
  
"...Was a better artist than me? A better market product than me? Tell me the answer before I kill you!!"  
  
"Bea, wait!" CJ shouted, trying to get his voice to rise above the wind. "It doesn't have to be like this!"  
  
"He destroyed too many lives Dr. London", she said, not looking at him. "He has to be punished."  
  
"Then let the law take its course. He'll go to Riker's Island for twenty years. That's hell in itself!"  
  
"No." There was finality in her voice as cold as the bitterest winds. Grabbing McNeely's head, she stared at him deep into his eyes, not diverting her attention towards anything.  
  
"What's going on up there?" Madison said over to CJ. The scientist could only shrug his good arm and watch, with the others, in morbid fascination at the scene unfolding before them.  
  
Suddenly, the air was pierced by McNeely's high shrieks, the sound that shivers down the audience present on the outside and the MV2. Baltimore held her hands over her ears to drown out the sound.  
  
With that, Bea let McNeely go, dropping him towards the stage. Then she disappeared.  
  
Nobody said anything. If they did, it was the sounds of someone shouting "QUICK! Get this man to a hospital!" and "He doesn't look good!" Brian's aura disappeared around the stage as the EMT's flanked it and surrounded Sheena. The Doom Patrol watched as one of them shook their heads and covered her body.  
  
Epilogue I:  
  
"I just wanted to come here and thank you all for helping my Beatrix find her peace." Mrs. Veronica DeWitt stood in front of Salina's desk, as the latter was sitting down finishing filing the case report. "Tell me, how did she look?"  
  
Salina smiled. "The expression on her face was something like relief. She looked really happy." The old woman smiled meekly, and then she said:  
  
"Sheena was not a bad person. I'm sorry about what happened to her."  
  
Salina sat back and thought for a second. "The important thing is that the two made peace between each other", she said and continued writing. Mrs. DeWitt put her hand into her purse and pulled out a small envelope.  
  
"What's this?" Salina asked.  
  
"It's a small fee", she said handing her the envelope.  
  
"But we didn't really do anything for you to deserve it."  
  
"Please", Mrs. DeWitt insisted. "Just take it. If it weren't for your detective work in uncovering that scoundrel McNeely, I would have gone on thinking that it was Sheena's fault about what happened to her."  
  
"Ma'am, as generous as the offer is, I---and I speak for the whole---don't think we can really accept this. All the thanks we need to have is in knowing that we helped you know more about your granddaughter's fate. And I think that's enough for all of us."  
  
Mrs. DeWitt stared at Salina for a moment before replacing the envelope back inside her purse. Then, she hugged her neck.  
  
"Thank you", she said and walked out of the Highrise.  
  
Epilogue II  
  
"So, who is this guy we got here?"  
  
The elder guardsman at Riker's Island puffed on his cigar as he and his young partner walked the halls lined with the cells of many prisoners.  
  
"Used to be a famous big shot manager", the older guard said as his nightstick rapped against the cell. "You know, for that singer chick Sheena Lyndon."  
  
The young guard stopped in his tracks. "You mean the one that was killed at her concert?"  
  
Spitting out a piece of tobacco from the cigar, the older guard nodded.  
  
"They say he went crazy when one of them Ghostbusters blew the lid off his plan. You know he had that popstar's friend killed just to further her career?"  
  
"I've heard the rumors, but I never believed them."  
  
"You should."  
  
Penetrating the uneasy calmness of the conversation the two were having was a loud scream that echoed through the halls.  
  
"Je-sus..." the younger guard said. But the elder one just smirked as he extinguished his cigar and pulled out another.  
  
"Do you believe in divine punishment?" he asked.  
  
"I'm...not too big into religion", the young guard said.  
  
"Wicked is as wicked does. When they brought that poor bastard to us he was completely and utterly out of his mind: drug induced paranoia, his brain was fried from the inside. There was no way he'd be able to think rationally again."  
  
"Are the screams a part of that paranoia?"  
  
"If you believe in divine punishment, then you'd know that that poor girl's soul that he corrupted won't rest until he's dead and six feet under."  
  
The two stopped in front of the cell and looked in on what remained of Paul McNeely: strapped in a strait jacket, he looked at them with madness in his eyes and ran to the bars, ramming his head into it, saliva flowing from his mouth. The younger guard backed away as his hand went to his pistol by his side.  
  
"Simmer down, it's alright", the older one calmed. "He gets like that."  
  
THE END... 


End file.
